


Last Joys Of A Century

by AliceMarylin1999



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1990s, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Body Dysphoria, Body Image, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Doomed Relationship, First Dates, First Kiss, Japan, Love Letters, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Phone Calls & Telephones, Pining, Protective Crowley, Romance, Secret Relationship, Separations, Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22306402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMarylin1999/pseuds/AliceMarylin1999
Summary: It's the year 1997 and Aziraphale finally got his courage to make the first step to Crowley. The only problem is that he's going to Japan for half a year and during all that time Gabriel will watch his every step.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 62





	1. The first date of the last decade

_August 1997_

Anthony J Crowley took great pleasure in waking up at any time of the day he pleased. A too well-organized demon sounds like a fallacy, after all. That particular day in late summer of the year 1997 Crowley slept so long it was well past afternoon, when he finally woke up in his minimalistic bedroom, lit with warm pre-autumn sunshine.

His usual routine was to check the answering machine on his way to the bathroom and listen to whatever great offers he had from the very best of London's banks, cable television companies or Chinese food deliveries. 

So, as Crowley got up from his bed and stretched a bit, he walked to his cabinet, where the telephone was, and pressed the button and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

 _"Good morning, Crowley",_ he heard Aziraphale’s. He stopped. That was unusual.

_"It is, well, a bit inconvenient, but... I have just been informed that I positively have to fly all the way to Japan and stay there for about half a year. It has something to do with the big preparation of the Asian countries to a millennium, we have a high quota, and I am the only one who speaks the language fluently… Anyway… My people gave me very short notice"_

Aziraphale's voice sounded a little bit disappointed. _“Why would that be?”_ Crowley thought. The angel loved Japan, the cuisine alone would've made him ecstatic to stay there for as long as possible. Unless, of, course...

 _"Which means, that, sadly, we won't be able to meet for quite a long time"_ , Aziraphale's voice went on, reserved and calm. The thing was, though, that Crowley knew him long enough to sense that underneath his flat tone, Aziraphale wasn't too happy about the trip. And the reason behind that was no other than the fact that Crowley couldn't keep him company, it appeared from Aziraphale’s own words.

_"Anyway. If you are in a mood for having lunch, or, maybe, an early dinner today, that would be rather lovely. My flight is at midnight, from Heathrow"_

Aziraphale paused.

 _"Call me"._ That sounded almost insecure.

_"Goodbye"._

Crowley weighted for a couple of moments, whether to call Aziraphale back right away, or do his whole waking up ritual - shower, coffee, styling his hair - first. Crowley tended to speak rather messily when he was still sleepy, he needed some time to get himself ready for the communication.

His initial impulse was to grab the phone that very second just to hear Aziraphale's voice. The angel all but admitted he'd be missing Crowley, and that was huge. This had never happened before. That being said, it didn't mean Crowley should respond to that by sounding like a hungover Scottish shepherd over the phone, and that's exactly what he sounded like when he skipped his waking up ritual. No, that would simply not do, he thought. Sighing, Crowley headed to the bathroom at last.

Within an hour, Anthony J. Crowley, all dressed up and with his hair styled impeccably, finally dialed the number of his angelic friend.

"A.Z. Fell's rare and old book store...", Aziraphale’s voice said rather hurryingly.

"It's me, angel", Crowley responded.

"Oh. Right", Aziraphale answered with a hint of nervousness.

"So, I understand that you leave tonight to eat sushi till the weather gets better?", Crowley started, making quite a big effort to sound nonchalant.

"I wish that was the case..."

"... And you are going to miss me, while you're there"

Aziraphale fell silent. Crowley couldn't help but grin.

"I'm gonna pick you up, okay?" he proposed, to break the silence.

"Can you come over at 3 P.M.?", Aziraphale answered.

If Crowley hadn't known him well enough, he might've thought Aziraphale was going to prepare himself for a date night. Then again, he had never admitted to not wanting to part from Crowley, so anything could happen.

"I guess", Crowley said, trying to sound as careless as he could. He was anything but careless at that moment.

" Good. See you later, then"

Crowley was still smiling quite stupidly after Aziraphale's voice changed with long beeps. He had about two hours to prepare himself for what seemed to be the first date of his life.

At five minutes to three P.M. Crowley parked his Betley nearby Aziraphale’s bookshop, still a bit anxious as he spent about ten minutes in traffic and was worried he wouldn’t make it on time, which, as most dating expert might agree on, is not the best move on a first date. He stood at the entrance of the shop, as he told Aziraphale he would, and shifted uneasily. The time was excruciatingly slow as he was waiting for the angel to come out, and Crowley must have checked his watch at least a dozen times before Aziraphale finally walked out of the bookshop.

“Oh. Wow”, Crowley muttered quietly under his nose, as he cast a glance over the angel.

Aziraphale had always been, at all times, neat and a little bit overdressed. "Casual" or "careless" were not things that anyone could say about him.

So, it wasn't any wonder that Aziraphale was all dressed up, his hands perfectly manicured, his shoes shining and his unruly curls combed in something slightly resembling a coherent hairstyle.

But something about him was a bit unusual – the usual bowtie wasn’t there, and instead of it, there was a neckcloth of pale blue, that complimented angel’s eyes. He also wore a different coat, a fancier one – creamy white, with a red row on sleeves and on lapels. The whole look was, of course, ridiculously old-fashioned, but at the same time romantic and dandy-ish, which, Crowley admitted to himself, was absolutely fetching.

They were never shy around each other, not for the centuries, but when their eyes met, Crowley saw nervousness in Aziraphale’s posture and his mimics, and that uneasiness channeled to himself. He was grateful he at least had his dark glasses that covered his longing look in Aziraphale’s direction.

“So”, Crowley started, to break the silence. “What shall we do? How much time do we have?”

“I’d like to be home by 9 P.M.”, Aziraphale answered. “We have quite some time for anything we want”

Crowley knew that this might be the only shot he had on courting the angel properly since God only knew when would be the next time Aziraphale would be so open about his affections. He breathed in and resolved to take matters in his own hands.

“If you’re not hungry yet, I might know a place you may like, I suggest we go there first”, Crowley smiled. “It’ll be a surprise”

“I’m all about pleasant surprises, you know that”, Aziraphale smiled in return.

Crowley opened the door of the car for Aziraphale, trying his best to be gallant. He had never done anything like that before and was terrified he might be looking ridiculous. But Aziraphale seemed pleased and thanked him with a polite smile.

The awkward silence still lingered as they started their way.

“If you’ll excuse me, I may say it’s a bit too quiet. Why don’t we turn on the radio?”, Aziraphale asked with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Radio… I don’t know. It’s just some trashy pop on and on out there”, Crowley answered, grumpily.

“Well, I like some of it”, Aziraphale said a bit coyly. “There are some… Rather interesting musical groups”

“Such as?”, Crowley wondered, genuinely surprised.

“Oh, many…”, Aziraphale said, blushing. He clearly was thinking about something extremely cringeworthy, Crowley guessed. “I’ll just pick some station if you don’t mind”

“Yeah, sure”, Crowley shrugged. Don’t screw this up, he thought to himself.

Aziraphale switched the channels, from talk shows to classics to blues, until one of them was playing Spice Girls… And Aziraphale stopped switching.

Which meant, obviously, that Aziraphale planned to listen to Spice Girls in Crowley’s Bentley.

_“If you wanna be my lover_

_You gotta get on with my friends…”_

, the song went, and Crowley slowly turned his head to the left. Aziraphale’s face was virtually red.

“Spice Girls?”, Crowley asked. “That’s what you enjoy these days?”

“Oh, well…”, Aziraphale started, getting redder and redder. “I like some of the songs, you know, not that I am a big fan or anything, but…”

“It’s great”, Crowley said with a bit artificial smile. “I love Spice Girls myself”

“You do?”, Aziraphale asked with a tone of sincere relief. “Oh, I thought I embarrassed myself here…”

On any other day, Crowley would’ve already made a dozen jokes about Aziraphale’s horrible taste and would’ve enjoyed the teasing greatly. But that day was different, he was trying to develop something new, to push whatever they had further than friendship, and he bit his tongue. Besides, he felt that admitting to liking something of questionable aesthetic value was a rather big step in establishing intimacy. Nothing makes the bonding easier than shared guilty pleasures. Not to mention the fact that Crowley secretly loved Spice Girls himself and owned a cassette of their first album at his flat.

“Where are we going, Crowley?”, Aziraphale asked softly.

“Would it be any fun if I told you right away? Come on, you’re gonna like it”, Crowley answered.

Aziraphale hummed something indistinguishable, but as Crowley threw a glance on him, he seemed rather pleased. Crowley smiled himself.

After about twenty minutes, they parked near a square with several rows of covered tents.

“What is this?”, Aziraphale asked as they stepped out of the car, sounding rather amused.

“It’s a flea market”, Crowley answered, pleased at Aziraphale’s delight. “And as far as I know, there are also some booksellers here today, so I think you might want to buy a book or two”

“Crowley, this is…”, Aziraphale gasped, as he paced to the tents. “This is so… I love flea markets! But I leave tonight… I won’t be able to bring all the stuff we buy”

“We’ll leave it at the bookshop”, Crowley shrugged. “And maybe you’ll find something small that you’ll bring with yourself to Japan and remember… This day”

Crowley feared he was being too sentimental, but Aziraphale’s face was absolutely beaming. That was good news.

“Look!”, Aziraphale pointed at one of the tents. “Vintage watches and clocks. Shall we take a look?”

Crowley nodded happily, as he followed an overly-enthusiastic Aziraphale to the tent. The angel took an interest in a small bronze pocket watch with a rose engraved on the cap. It was indeed rather lovely, Crowley thought, albeit a little sentimental-looking.

“Do you like it?”, he asked, coming from behind.

“Oh yes, I love it”, Aziraphale nodded. “It’s made in the 1920s. I loved that decade, you know”

“So did I”, Crowley smiled. “I was in America back then, there was a lot of fun going on”

He saw a sudden flicker of sadness in Aziraphale’s eyes and recognized it – they hadn’t been talking to each other for eighty years, nineteen-twenties included. If truth be told, no matter how much fun he had in America, he still couldn’t shrug off his yearning for the angel in those days, and those watches reminded him of that. They must’ve reminded Aziraphale of that parting time, too, so he saddened. That didn’t sit well with Crowley.

“We’re taking those”, said Crowley, and gave a seller a nod. “How much?”

“No need, Crowley”, Aziraphale said, putting his hand on his elbow. The touch made Crowley wavered. “I can buy it myself”

“No, I’m treating you today”, Crowley shook his head. “You’ll bring me ancient treasures from Japan in return, won’t you? Now please, take a look at that tent over there”, Crowley changed the subject quickly, so he won’t be dealing with further protests from the angel. “I see a suspicious amount of tartan fabrics over there, it may have happened they set a trap for you specifically. Check it out, but be careful”

Aziraphale laughed light-heartedly but obeyed. As soon as he left, Crowley asked about the price of the watch once again and paid for it. As he had suspected at first, it was ridiculously expensive, and it was better for Aziraphale not to know it.

The angel indeed was completely hypnotized by the vintage tartan exhibition, Crowley noticed, as he caught up with him.

“Here’s your watch”, he said, handing it to Aziraphale. “Don’t lose it”

Aziraphale took the watch from his hand but lingered a moment longer before taking his hand away. Crowley felt his breath getting heavier.

“Thank you”, the angel said softly. “There is this lovely Scottish scarf, look”

He pointed at a big woolen scarf, green and black check.

“Not exactly your colors, though”, Crowley noted. “More like mine – black wings, serpentine green, huh?  
“You were a snake of black and red, not black and green”, Aziraphale said, with a little smile in the corner of his lips.

“You remember that?”, Crowley asked, completely unprepared for this revelation.

“Of course, I remember that”, Aziraphale said. “Ma’am, I would like to buy this scarf!”, he added, addressing the seller.

Before Crowley could protest, Aziraphale paid for the purchase and handed the scarf to Crowley.

“It’s for you”, he said, looking dreamily, his gaze melting underneath his long eyelashes. “It’s going to be cold soon, and it will go well with your black coat”

Crowley took the scarf, deliberately brushing his fingers against the angel’s for a moment.

“Thank you, angel”, he said quietly, shocked. “I hope it will keep me warm”

“It will”, Aziraphale whispered and looked him in the eyes tenderly, but quickly looked away.

“Look”, Crowley said, wrapping the scarf around his neck. “I put on a tartan pattern, it must change something in me. Let’s wait a minute”. Crowley made a serious face, frowning, then rounded his eyes and smiled brightly. “Oh, my dear, this is absolutely fetching!”, he said in a high voice, mimicking Aziraphale’s usual intonation. “This scarf makes me a tip-top dandy! I most certainly must wear it to my book club run by Jewish mobsters!”

Aziraphale gasped, trying to maintain an offended expression, but within a moment burst into laughter.

“How dare you!”, he exclaimed, still smiling. “I can’t believe you would mock me like that, it’s not the way I speak!”

“As a matter of fact, this is PRECISELY the way you speak”, Crowley went on, this time hitting it perfectly, very proud of himself.

“You are so vile!”, Aziraphale laughed and started unwrapping Crowley’s scarf. “Take it off, you snake, I’m not giving it to you”

“Hey”, Crowley said with his own voice again, stopping the angel’s hand with his own. Aziraphale looked at him, smile fading. Crowley kept the angel’s hand in his, his grip getting firmer. “Don’t. I want to keep it. It really is good”

Aziraphale stayed still for several moments, before gently looking away and pulling back his hand.

For the next couple of hours, they walked through the lines of tents and stopped every now and then, and bought a couple of vintage ties for Aziraphale and a pair of black silk gloves for Crowley, (made in the 1940s, if the merchant was to be trusted).

“Look, there is a bookseller”, Crowley pointed in the direction of a large red tent. “Do you want to check it out?”

“I’d love to, Crowley, but…”, Aziraphale started.

“But what?”, Crowley replied in surprise.

“I’ll be lost for hours if I start going through the books”, Aziraphale smiled shyly. “And I want to spend this time with you”

“Alright”, Crowley nodded, fighting to suppress the delighted grin. “But I’ll buy you something, then”.

He walked to the tent.

“Good morning, sir”, Crowley said to a bookseller, a short balding man of around fifty years old. “Do you have Arthur Rimbaud?”

“Sure, gentlemen”, the bookseller nodded. “One French edition, 1901, and an English translation, 1919”

“I don’t read in French”, Aziraphale whispered in embarrassment into Crowley’s ear.

“Why am I not surprised?”, Crowley whispered back. “We’ll have an English edition”, Crowley announced.

He took the book and gave it to Aziraphale – it was in a nice hardcover, rather small and the title (“In green cabaret”) of the book was embossed with gold on the dark green background.

“Why this book?”, Aziraphale asked, startled. “I thought you were indifferent towards poetry”

“I like Rimbaud”, Crowley said with a light smile. “I thought you’d like it too. I think you can take it with you if you like”

“I will”, Aziraphale answered, still looking at Crowley with surprise. “Thank you”

They were walking further down the aisle between the tents when Crowley spotted a photographer with a polaroid camera. He felt an urge to do a little mischief.

“You wanna take a picture?”, he asked, sporting a sly grin.

Aziraphale looked reluctant, but yet a great deal tempted by the proposition.

“Oh, Crowley, I think…”, he murmured. “I mean, I want to. I’d love to. But wouldn’t it be endangering to have material evidence of our… Connection?”

“Not if you hide the picture in the right place and not forget about it”, Crowley shrugged. “Come on. Don’t you want to look at my face while you’re away?”

“Well. It will be nice… Alright. Let’s take a picture”, Aziraphale finally agreed.

The cameraman was free, and Crowley paid him for two pictures in advance, and in his nervousness even gave him far too general tips.

Then he turned around to Aziraphale and found him blushing.

“Come here”, he said. “Closer. We should fit”

Aziraphale stood shoulder to shoulder to Crowley, looking a bit awkward.

“Relax”, Crowley whispered. “It’s fine”

He put his hand on the small of Aziraphale’s back, hoping against hope it wasn’t too much. It wasn’t - Aziraphale only smiled and seemed to be relaxing at last.

“Smile!” – the photographer announced, and Crowley managed a happy grin, that probably would look a bit overdone on the picture.

The first picture came out of the camera with a buzz. Then came the second one, and within seconds both pictures were handed to the couple.

“Let me take a look”, Aziraphale muttered, agitated. “Oh, it’s actually nice!”

Crowley leaned over Aziraphale’s shoulder to look at the picture. They indeed looked nice and just the right amount of stupid for the picture to be adorable.

“I’ll keep mine in a secure place”, Crowley said, putting the picture away to the bag over his shoulder. “Will you promise to do the same?”

“I won’t lose it, I’m telling you”, Aziraphale snapped back, a bit irritated. “It’s the only picture of…”, he stopped.

“Of us”, Crowley finished for him. Aziraphale’s eyes were giving out so much at this moment – fear, thrill, happiness, mischief, all at the same time. Crowley was feeling the same, and even more, and knew there was too little time to act on what he felt.

“How about some lunch?”, he asked lightly, touching Aziraphale’s index finger with his own. “I know a place down here, it’s not fancy at all. Really cheap. But the food is…” – Crowley let out a theatrical delighted groan.

“I thought eating is not your thing?”, Aziraphale wondered, looking amused.

“It’s not, but when I was invited, I had to. There was little choice. Come!”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the hand and led him through the crowd, working with his elbows and his shoulders to make way through all the people gathered on the square. Once they left the square and walked to the street, he weakened his grip on the angel’s hand, expecting him to take the hand away, but he didn’t. As they were crossing the road, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand himself, and Crowley was too afraid to look at him – what if it will scare him away and this precious moment won’t last?

“I guess we’re almost there”, Crowley declared, finally. “See? “Andolini’s”, near the streetlight”

“Andolini, like in the Godfather?”, Aziraphale chuckled. Crowley turned out to him and looked in surprise.

“I didn’t know you finally watched it!”, he said.

“You said it’s a good movie, so I had to give it a try”, Aziraphale smiled shyly. “I watched quite a few films you recommended”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it, angel, once we are settled”, Crowley said with a look of pure joy and thrill. “Though I’m disappointed we didn’t watch it together”

“Well, there are plenty of other films you wanted to show me that we can watch together”, Aziraphale pointed out.

They had to let go of each other’s hands as they entered the restaurant.

This lunch was unlike any other they’ve ever had – they always preferred posh places and not small and hidden family restaurants like Andolini’s. The portions were huge and Aziraphale barely managed half of his pasta, but it was so delicious that he looked and sounded positively ecstatic while eating it. Crowley was looking at him fondly, sipping black coffee and trying to finish his tiramisu. It was exquisite but still too much for Crowley’s taste.

“You can’t leave without dessert”, Crowley insisted. “The desert is the best part of it. You have to try the cannoli or tiramisu, or else we’ll miss the entire point of coming here!”

“I can’t, Crowley”, Aziraphale shook his head. “It was so good, but I’m so full, I can’t possibly manage a desert”

Crowley took a look at his half-finished tiramisu, and took a bit of the cream in his spoon, making sure a bit of wet biscuit would also fit.

“Just this bit, come on”, he said with a tempting smile, and handed a spoon, so Aziraphale might try it. The angel pressed his lips, probably finding the gesture too compromising, but after the initial struggle, he leaned in and tried. For a moment Crowley was dazzled by the picture of an angel trying food from Crowley’s hands and thought that it was probably the most intimate thing they’ve ever done, which made him terrified and happy in equal proportions.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and moaned in delight.

“This is divine, Crowley”, he exhaled, licking his lips. “It really is. We should definitely go back here sometime for dessert. I want to try all they can offer”

“You’re a decadent, angel”, Crowley shook his head, fondly.

“It was you who tempted me to this temple of gluttony!”, Aziraphale answered with a mocking offense and smiled. This smile was so pure and radiant, Crowley felt a certain ache in his chest. What was he doing? He was a demon, and Aziraphale was the exact opposite of everything he was, and he probably should’ve never tempted the angel to anything, but, then again… Underneath all this purity Aziraphale was very much capable of tempting on his own.

“Shall we go for a walk?”, Aziraphale suggested, interrupting Crowley’s inner monologue. “I probably need some motion after that”

“I know a nice park around here”, Crowley agreed. “Just let me take care of the bill”

When they stepped out of the restaurant, it was already the twilight. The little park they strolled into was nice and cozy, and very deserted compared to St. James where they usually met, and dim streetlamps were just starting to light down the narrow alley.

Crowley let his pinkie brush against Aziraphale’s hand, hoping the trick might work the second time. It worked – the angel entwined his fingers with Crowley’s and held his hand firmly this time.

“There is a small pond over there”, Crowley said quietly. “If we’re lucky, we may still see the ducks”

“Let’s find out”, Aziraphale agreed, as they both walked towards the pond down the narrow path. The sky was darkening really fast, and Crowley soon found out that there were not many people at all at this time in the park.

“You see, that tree over there”, Crowley pointed out. “It gives a really nice view of the pond. Come with me”. He led Aziraphale by the hand away from the path and into the alley.

“Why do we need to be here, precisely?”, Aziraphale asked, suspiciously.

***

Aziraphale was anxious to be so close to Crowley in such a private and abandoned place at such a late hour.

That entire day seemed like a dream. When Aziraphale left that message on Crowley’s phone he didn’t really hope that Crowley would proceed with taking him out on such an amazing date and be so… Well, that was a thing. Crowley was still being himself, but he was a bit different from the way he carried himself normally. He was radiating lightness, his gestures were gentler, his voice was warmer. And those brief moments of touch they shared made his entire body achingly weak. It was the happiest and at the same time most terrifying day of Aziraphale’s life on earth. The happiness was an easy part – being around the demon he’d been in love with for centuries, walking hand in hand with him, melting in his smile, gazing at the lovely flames of his red hair in the setting sun, knowing that nothing in the world mattered except for the two of them.

The terrifying part was knowing at the same time, all that still didn’t mean they were on the same page. What if holding hands was as far as it would ever go? What if this intimacy and tenderness was just a way of Crowley expressing his platonic affection?

Crowley stopped abruptly, putting an end to Aziraphale’s long inner monologue. The demon looked around.

"Seems like we're alone here", Crowley muttered.

"Seems like that, yes", Aziraphale proved, wondering what was going on the demon's mind. "Can you even see in such darkness with those glasses on?"

"Hardly", Crowley answered, taking the glasses away. His yellow eyes gleamed in the pale street light. Crowley put his hands on Aziraphale’s waist and pulled him slowly to himself. "You need a lift back home in an hour, right?"

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley smiled like he was up to something.

"I have to show you something, before you leave, then", he whispered with a wicked smile.

"Wh-"

Aziraphale never finished the sentence, as Crowley lowered his face down and kissed him on the lips. The warmth of the demon's fingers brushing on his cheeks sent the waves of strange fiery trembling down Aziraphale's entire body. 

"What are you doing?", Aziraphale whispered softly, as their lips parted for a second.

" Kissing you", Crowley responded in a low and warm voice Aziraphale had always loved. "Is it okay?"

Aziraphale didn't answer, but instead leaned closer and kissed Crowley back. 

They had many chances to do this before, this and many other things. But the physical closeness between them only became possible after a couple of decades after the holy water incident. Aziraphale was well aware that Crowley would only hold the initiative if he was sure Aziraphale would welcome it. He was dropping hints since the beginning of the 90s, but, after all, Crowley also had things to lose.

Not that any of it mattered at this moment. Nothing mattered, but the feeling of Crowley's presence all around him. Aziraphale found himself wrapped by the demon's long arms gently but tightly, and he wondered if it was his serpentine nature showing itself. He was happy to be his prey. Crowley kissed him lightly, tenderly, barely touching, and somehow it made this all the more addicting and dizzying. 

"Crowley", Aziraphale whispered, gasping. "You... You are..."

"Your demonic counterpart?", Crowley murmured with a little smile. " Your hereditary enemy?"

Aziraphale knew they had very little time and he wanted to make sure he had enough to remember during those long six months in Japan.

"Precisely", he said, clutching at Crowley jacket, and make a step back, leaning his back on the tree. 

Crowley went on kissing him slowly and lightly, but Aziraphale was anxious to get more. He moaned into the kiss, opening his lips and tilting his head slightly to find a proper angle while running his fingers through Crowley's hair, so soft and just a little bit messy. Crowley's skin became hot, as their kissed deepened and Aziraphale started feeling that he was being pressed to the trunk of a tree.

“I can’t help it, Crowley”, he whispered fervently to Crowley’s ear, as he felt the demon’s mouth on his neck, wandering and sealing hot and desperate kisses.

“Come here, come here”, Crowley answered in a low whisper, tracing the kisses from his throat to his jawline, and then the cheekbones, and then his lips again.

“It will be so long, so long…”, Aziraphale whispered against Crowley’s mouth but was cut off quickly with insistent kisses and gentle bites. He gave up on talking and just relaxed his back against the tree and ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, making a total mess of it, and forgot about time and space.

"Maybe... I would feel a little more confident in coming back, if I knew that when I return...", Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley didn't let him finish, kissing him forcefully and holding closer and closer.

"I need you to come back on time, angel", he whispered in his ear. " Don't make me wait for too long"

“Or else?”, Aziraphale asked playfully.

“Else there will be a demonic intervention in Japan”, Crowley hissed while covering Aziraphale’s neck with hasty kisses.

Time has stopped and so did everything else. The humanity, the upcoming millennium, the plane to Tokio, Gabriel and his constant lists of demands – none of it existed at that moment. Only Crowley, his precious red lips on his skin, his sharp teeth biting gently, his warm palms caressing his face and neck and his scent, earthy and herbal, all around him. Aziraphale wanted to touch Crowley everywhere he could, he ran his hands across the demon’s chest, feeling the heat underneath the thin fabric of his shirt, then down his back, where he slid his hands underneath Crowley’s shirt and felt the hot skin.

“You’re going to undress me here?”, Crowley asked with a surprised smile, pulling back. “I said we’re alone here, but I didn’t mean to…”

Aziraphale cut him off with a kiss, sliding his hands in the back pockets of Crowley’s jeans and pulled him as close as he could. Crowley moaned loudly into the kiss and responded by pressing himself tighter to Aziraphale, his own hands running through the angel’s hair, making a complete mess of it.

Aziraphale could feel what he did to Crowley, who was burning like hellfire and trembling profoundly, and he felt a bit of proud satisfaction. He desired Crowley for so long, longed for every inch of his beautiful, perfect body, but was always self-aware of his own corporation, who, as he thought, was far less appealing then Crowley’s. He spent so much time being shy around the demon, fearing he wasn’t well-built or attractive enough for him, fearing the rejection. And now he made a mess of him without even taking any clothes off.

“All right”, Crowley hissed, pulling himself away with visible effort. “I think I need to drive you back at the bookshop”

Aziraphale sighed in irritation.

“You know, I can stop time”, Crowley smiled. “Only I can’t promise I will ever unstop it again if it goes on like this”

“No”, Aziraphale shook his head. “Time stopping is a major miracle. You got away with it back then in the 18th century, but now with this whole millennium thing we have such strict surveillance of who does what – I can assure you, Michael will notice it, and there will be questions”

Crowley took his hand.

“Then we better go now. If you’re late for your plane, I’m sure they’ll start digging where the Hell have you been the entire day”, he said, trying to calm down his breath.

“Yes, you’re right”, Aziraphale said, reluctantly, and pushed himself off the tree. The ground was strangely dancing underneath his feet as the took a step, and Crowley was quick to catch him.

“Dizzy?”, Crowley smiled charmingly. “Me too”

They walked hand in hand down the alley, moving away from the park, back to the street where the restaurant was. They both were silent. Aziraphale noticed that Crowley’s grip on his hand was tighter now, and the demon’s hand itself was hot. Aziraphale’s entire body was aching from desire, he never realized how addicting it would be to finally touch Crowley, and he wondered if it would’ve been wiser to make the first step himself, during the day. Then he remembered how they spent the day and decided he didn’t want to change a single thing.

When they reached the spot at the square where they left a car, the flea market was long abandoned, empty tents were standing lonely under the streetlights. Crowley turned around to face him.

“Angel”, he said quietly.

“What?”, Aziraphale responded.

Crowley grabbed him tightly and kissed him once again, greedily and desperately, pressing himself closely and firmly. Aziraphale felt like he had been underwater for a deadly amount of time and now he could finally breathe – he held on to Crowley and melted into the kiss, forgetting about time and space once again.

“M’sorry”, Crowley muttered, as he stopped. “I know we need to go. I just…”

“I know”, Aziraphale said softly, almost whispering. “Me too”

Crowley opened the passenger’s door and let Aziraphale in, and then got in the car himself.

“So”, he said with a sigh, trying to regain his composure. “Can you have a look at your new watch and tell me what time is it?”

Aziraphale took the decadent watch out of his pocket and opened the cap.   
“Twenty to nine”, he said.

“It’s okay, then”, Crowley answered, more steadily. “We will make it on time”

They drove in silence, as Aziraphale closed his eyes dreamily and tried to not let go of the feeling that overcame him. It was too soon when they arrived to the bookshop.

“I did make it, as promised”, Crowley said with a smile. “Nine o’clock, precisely”

Aziraphale sighed in pain, not willing to leave just yet.

“Thank you”, he said gloomily. “For the lift and for this lovely day”

“You are welcome, angel”, Crowley answered, and reached out for his hand. “Will you call me when you settle in?”

“I will”, Aziraphale nodded. “I will call you as often as I can”

“You should enjoy your time there”, Crowley said warmly, “It’s not every day that you can travel to a beautiful country and the homeland of your favorite food”

“Well, you’re not at all wrong”, Aziraphale smiled curtly and gave Crowley a longing look. “I will be going, then”

He said it, but he didn’t move, and neither did Crowley. Only then Aziraphale realized that the entire time after their first kiss, Crowley wasn’t wearing his glasses. His eyes widened, and were fully golden, without a hint of white. Crowley wasn’t blinking. Aziraphale closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Of course, he couldn’t have left without the last kiss in the car, despite how cliché it was. Somehow doing some rituals borrowed from American teens in the 1950s was making the whole affair even sweeter. He knew he could spare a minute. Two minutes. Five. Ten.

“Okay”, Crowley whispered, pulling away. “I’m afraid if you don’t go now, we’re gonna do this whole night, up until Gabriel shows his smug and furious face at your front door”

“Yes”, Aziraphale whispered, kissing him one last time, and leaving the car.

“Goodbye, Crowley”, he said, as he took his bags from the backseat.

“Bye, angel”, Crowley replied with a smile, as he turned back from the driver’s seat. “Give me a call”

Aziraphale closed the door and watched the Bentley drive away. He had to go and finish the packing, but he couldn’t move until the car disappeared completely.


	2. Call me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley waits for Aziraphale's call and gets as restless as one demon possibly can.

Crowley hardly understood how the evening became night and night became morning. Since he came back home be paced around the flat, watered his plants for three times in a row, repaired his chair, sorted all the socks he had in the increasing order, danced frantically to the “Best of The Smiths” vinyl, and apparently, as he discovered post-factum, purchased an array of frying pans on the TV-shop. This maniac course of action was supposed to make him calm down a little bit, after what happened between him and Aziraphale that day, but in reality, it did no such thing.

He was as anxious and ecstatic as he was the moment he stepped into his flat. For a moment he considered to go out for a walk, but then he realized that Aziraphale’s flight must’ve been over by then, and within a couple of hours he should be available for calling him.

That what he told himself every couple of minutes as he spent the most exhausting and restless day indoors because Aziraphale just didn’t call. Hours passed one by one, and it was already darkening, and Crowley was sure by then that Aziraphale definitely regretted their date and wasn’t going to call, when the phone finally rang.

Crowley picked up the immediately.

"Anthony J Crowley here", he blurted out.

"It's me, Crowley", angel's gentle voice said.

Crowley felt his pulse racing higher.

"How was your flight?", he said without thinking.

"Exhausting. The baby was crying the whole time. And Gabriel forbid me to do any miracles", Aziraphale said wearily.

"It’s been quite a long time", Crowley said, trying not to betray how unbearably long is had been, indeed. “Where did you settle?”

"It's in a calm place, far from Tokyo. We spent around three hours in the city and then took the train to this place we’re in right now. I don’t remember the name, I’m sorry”

"And how did you like the capital?", Crowley went on, finally fulling with joy from hearing Aziraphale’s voice. “I bet it was your first time since before World War Two?:

"Well, I must say that there are people there who may make YOU look old-fashioned", Aziraphale chuckled.

"No way!”, Crowley answered with a smile.

"Well, yes!”, Aziraphale went on enthusiastically “And I actually saw some youths sporting the look not so different from mine - a sort of Victorian fashion, or something like that"

“And let me guess”, Crowley spoke with a stupid smile he was happy Aziraphale couldn’t see” The sushi was... Were..."

"Haven't tried them out yet", Aziraphale paused. "I decided to call you first"

Crowley didn't know what to say. He was a little bit surprised.

"I am flattered I come before food. I, ehm... I miss you"

Crowley immediately regretted saying that.

"I miss you too. Crowley", he heard Aziraphale’s voice reply quietly.

"Come on. You're... Super polite and well-mannered. That's why you said that. I shouldn't have...", Crowley began.

"But I do miss you", Aziraphale said in a rather terrified voice. "I don't know if it's wise to say things like that over the phone"

"No one's listening to us, relax", Crowley sighed. " If my people tapped my phone they would've known that half the things I took credit for the last half of the year were done by the Italian mob"

"Well, it’s only right you took credit for it because you do help the mob!", Aziraphale replied, irritated.

"And so do you, mister Fell", Crowley snapped back. "Don't make me remind you how your dear friend, what was his name, nearly had me discorporated last..."

"Alright, fine, enough!", Aziraphale hissed. "God, merely five minutes on the phone and we are already fighting"

"Not fighting. Just bickering, as usual", Crowley said, calmly. "Only it's no fun when I can't see your face"

"Well, you know how I feel, then", Aziraphale replied sassily. "I can't see half of your face behind those glasses you wear"

"I took them off last time", Crowley said and heard his voice tremble. "Remember?"

"Of course, I remember", Aziraphale said softly, virtually whispering. 

"Did you like it?", Crowley asked, against his best judgment. "Because if you didn't...”

"I did", Aziraphale said more firmly, but still quietly. “I thought it was pretty obvious how much I liked it”

"I thought about it all night", Crowley went on. "Couldn't sleep"

"Me neither", Aziraphale whispered. “Not that I could sleep anyway, in that sort of an aircraft…”

"I hope you'll enjoy your time in Japan, angel", Crowley muttered. "And I will wait for you here"

"I wish you could see all those places with me", Aziraphale said, sadly. " I really do"

“But I can’t”, Crowley cut him off. Those dreams would do neither of them any good. “All I can do is wait here. Like a loyal… guardian… wolf”. He was speaking nonsense.

“Wolves aren’t loyal!”, Aziraphale giggled lightly. “You’re making fun of me”

“I’m not”, Crowley said, maintaining a serious tone, relishing the smile he could hear in Aziraphale’s voice. “And wolves are loyal, you just know nothing about them. But I can wait for you like a stubborn crow, waiting for a treat”

“I’ll bring you something flashy, then”, Aziraphale answered, with the same amusement in his voice. “I just can’t decide what to pick. So many bright things, so many brand-new devices, so many bizarre electronics…”

“Bring me yourself”, Crowley said, letting his feelings seep into his voice. “That’ll do nicely. I’m just an old snake, waiting for my…”

“Your what?”, Aziraphale asked, playfully.

“My angel”, Crowley said, without thinking. He hoped it wasn’t too much. Aziraphale fell silent, and Crowley swore he could hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears.

“Are you being serious?”, Aziraphale said at last. “Or is it just… A manner of speech?”

“Well, that’s what I think of you”, Crowley answered. “Of course, you are your own angel. I wasn’t implying you’re not”

“I liked what you said”, Aziraphale said softly. “I’m afraid, I have to go now”

“Right”, Crowley sighed. “I’ll be waiting for your next call, angel”

“Say it again”, Aziraphale whispered with an almost ridiculous conspiracy.

“My angel”, Crowley said, whispering too, for some reason.

“Goodbye”, Aziraphale said now loudly, and before Crowley could answer, he heard the beeping.


	3. No more calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale calls Crowley to deliver some sad news.

_October 1997_

“Crowley, it’s me”, Aziraphale’s voice announced on the phone, at 7 A.M., without as much as saying “hello”.

It’s been almost two months since they were talking on the telephone daily, but Crowley never got used to being woken up this early.  
“I know it’s you”, he muttered in displeasure.

“Right. Listen, I have bad news”, Aziraphale said nervously.  
“What now…”, Crowley groaned.  
“Listen!”, Aziraphale shut him up. “Don’t interrupt. Gabriel started picking up my bills at the hotels”  
“Oh, shhhit!!!”, Crowley hissed, momentarily getting up from the bed.  
“Precisely”, Aziraphale went on. “He thinks I spend too much. He thinks I’m being indulgent”

“Which you are…”, Crowley pointed out.

“Stop it!”, Aziraphale whispered angrily. “I can’t call you from my hotel room anymore. But I can, in fact, use the Internet, it’s not billing on the room, but rather paid on the spot, so…”

“So, you’re saying you’re finally getting an email?”, Crowley asked, being rather taken aback.

“I already have”, Aziraphale said, sounding irritated. “Now I need you to tell me your address. Preferably, a private one. Without any “Antony J Crowley”-s in it”

“As a matter of fact, I do have such an email”, Crowley said, not without a bit of pride. He knew the day would come when he would need a private address, so he took care of it. He was a thoughtful demon. “Are you writing it down?”

“Yes, go on”

“ [s-n-a-a-a-k-e-9-9-7@-y-a-h-o-o-.-c-o-m](mailto:s-n-a-a-a-k-e-9-9-7@-y-a-h-o-o-.-c-o-m) “

“Three “a’s?”, Aziraphale asked with a hint of disbelief.

“Yep”

“Good Lord”, Aziraphale sighed. “All right, I’ll send you letters. I have to go now”

“Angel!”, Crowley interrupted him hastily.

“What?”, the angel answered, more softly.

“I miss you”

Crowley couldn’t resist to say it. He kept it to himself since their first phone conversation, but he couldn’t NOT say it after he realized he won’t be hearing from Aziraphale any time soon.

“I know”, Aziraphale said without a hint of irritation and with a heartbreaking softness in his voice. “And I miss you too. Bye, Crowley”

Crowley stared at the wall for another minute after the angel hung up on him. Not hearing his voice in months would be devastating, he thought.

On the other hand, writing letters seemed like a fun idea. The only hard part was not to check out his inbox folder frantically for every couple of minutes and wait patiently until the letter from Aziraphale finally appears.


	4. A romance in e-mail

| 

From:

| 

**tartanbritt@hotmail.uk**  
  
---|---  
  
To:

| 

snaaake997@yahoo.com  
  
date:

| 

15 October, 17:32  
  
Re:

| 

From A.Z. Fell  
  
|   
  
Dear Crowley!

I'm constantly moving from one place to another, never staying anywhere for too long. I want to give you a call so much, you said I can call you when it's night in London, but I can barely find a place to speak discretely without Gabriel watching my back. The Internet, though, the computers - they are everywhere! The Japanese are indeed a very progressive nation, not that I had any doubts, mind you.

Yesterday I had an opportunity to take a nice walk in the forest nearby the place I was staying in. I saw a red fox, with the most wonderful long and fluffy tail I've ever seen. You can laugh at it, of course, but it reminded me of you. The color that was so familiar to that of your hair and the elegance of its movements were so... Well, YOU. Before I could walk closer and see it better, it disappeared in the woods.

I'll be in the mountains next couple of weeks. I don't know if there's the Internet there, I hope so, but if not, I'll write to you when I can. 

It is so beautiful here, I always wish you could see it.

Yours sincerely, Aziraphale.

From:

| 

snaaake997@yahoo.com  
  
---|---  
  
To:

| 

**tartanbritt@hotmail.uk**

|   
  
date:

| 

16 October, 18:37

|   
  
Re:Re:

| 

From A.Z. Fell

|   
  
Angel!!!

It's been a while since I heard from you, I started worrying. I'm glad you're enjoying your trip, I suppose we'll have to take a tour of the Japanese restaurants when you come back, they'll definitely hook you up on their stuff!

I'm doing my usual work, minor temptation every now and then, recently I got a nice bonus from my people for some funny thing called Tamagotchi. I suppose it's Japanese, right? Doesn't matter, they didn't even bother checking up. As usual.

Did you take a picture of the fox?! I wanna see it! Does it really look like me or you just made this up to sound poetic?

I'll be waiting to hear from you.

I miss you.

C.

From:

| 

snaaake997@yahoo.com  
  
---|---  
  
To:

| 

**tartanbritt@hotmail.uk**

|   
  
date:

| 

30 October, 11:41

|   
  
Re:Re:Re:

| 

From A.Z. Fell

|   
  
Hi, angel. It's been almost two weeks, I haven't heard from you. Is everything fine? Just write when you can, okay?

C.

From:

| 

snaaake997@yahoo.com  
  
---|---  
  
To:

| 

**tartanbritt@hotmail.uk**

|   
  
date:

| 

2 November, 18:37

|   
  
Re:Re:Re:Re:

| 

From A.Z. Fell

|   
  
Angel

It's been a month. Are you okay or did I say or do something wrong?

Please just let me know. I'm worried.

C.

From:

| 

snaaake997@yahoo.com  
  
---|---  
  
To:

| 

**tartanbritt@hotmail.uk**

|   
  
date:

| 

3 November, 01:22

|   
  
Re:Re:Re:Re:

| 

From A.Z. Fell

|   
  
Angel

Im sorry I've had quete a few drinkss. Are you alright please I need to know you're fine..

Its been so long since you replied I wonder what happened. I dont even know which part of japan youre staying

Angel Im sorry I just worry about you and I miss you a lot. I think about you so much

I remember the last time we met before you left, at the flea market you remember??

And after that

Im sorry Im a bit drunk

Imma idiot I guess


	5. But I'm a Creep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley misses his angel a bit too much and listening to sad music is not the best of all ideas.  
> Some background for sending his last e-mail.

_November 1997, a few hours before sending the last embarrassing e-mail_

Crowley had a particularly productive and busy afternoon and was at the moment driving back from the meeting with Hastur. His big project – the mass hysteria surrounding the upcoming millennium was doing great since it kicked off in early 1997. Every day there was something to add to the existing equation – a false prophecy, a new numerological theory, countless lists of things everyone should do before the year 2000 starts. The work has been doing great for Crowley, and he didn’t even need to claim credit for human sins that much, he was doing just fine on his own.

So, by rights, Crowley should’ve been happy and satisfied that night. And he would’ve been, if not for this long silence from Aziraphale. It’s been a month since the angel contacted Crowley, and he could no longer contain his anxiety. He knew that Aziraphale would be going to mountains and have little access either to the telephone or to the internet, but he didn’t say it would be that long. What if something happened? What if Gabriel found out something and now the angel was in trouble?

What if Aziraphale himself decided that their relationship was a folly and cut him off?

Would Aziraphale do that, without as much as saying goodbye or at least giving him a reason?

There were too many questions and too much uncertainty. Somehow, since the happiest day in Crowley’s life, he was unable to stop worrying that it would all just fade away never to come back.

Crowley told himself he wasn’t obsessed. And he wasn’t, not really, he was functioning normally, he was doing great in his demonic work for one thing. But he still couldn’t get Aziraphale off his head, he was longing for him, always talking to him inside his head, always wishing he was there with him, wherever he was.

Every time Crowley closed his eyes he felt Aziraphale’s touch, his hasty kisses, his ragged breath. He heard his whisper, how he hissed “Crowley”, how he begged him not to stop. They were containing their feelings for too long, and once the flicker set the fire, it consumed his entire soul.

“I just want you to come back”, Crowley thought desperately, leaning with his head and shoulders to the steering wheel. He started the car, and the radio turned on.

_When you were here before_

_Couldn’t look you in the eye_

_You’re just like an angel_

_Your skin makes me cry_

“Oh, I know this song”, Crowley thought gloomily. Sad songs would do him no good at a moment like this.

_You flew like a feather_

_In a beautiful world_

_You so fucking special_

_I wish I was special_

Crowley saw white curls and that shiny smile as he closed his eyes dreamily.

_But I’m a creep_

_I’m a weirdo_

_What the Hell am I doing here_

_I don’t belong here_

“Does he see me as a freak?”, Crowley thought. “He looked so happy the last time. It seemed like he felt the same way I feel…”

The sad music made it hard to keep all those feelings under control, and Crowley clenched his fists, as his heart started beating harder in fear. The demon never realized that love meant fearing so much. He feared Aziraphale wouldn’t come back to England, he feared Aziraphale would come back to England, but won’t come back to him, he feared he would come back to him but won’t stay for long… He feared something he couldn’t even articulate. He just felt deep uneasiness and loneliness and a deep lack.

He realized he wouldn’t be content with seeing Aziraphale from time to time stealthily, hiding in the shadows for days and years and decades. He would settle for it, sure, but it would never be enough for the magnitude of the love he felt for him.

He wanted to be able to at least say that he loved him. Stop hiding. Stop making excuses. Stop playing games.

Why, everything about them had always been a twisted game, Crowley thought bitterly. Since the first day, they established their famous Arrangement. The very name was a mocking code for a thing that truly was something else than the name suggested.

Crowley envied humans sometimes, with their easiness in pursuing love and happiness. Then he remembered all the prejudice and wickedness and all the heartbreak he’d seen throughout the ages and humbled himself. At least he had several millennia to build trust and comfort in his interactions with Aziraphale, so he finally was brave enough to let go of his guard at least in some way.

If he went home that moment, he realized, he would write a sappy letter to Aziraphale and further embarrass himself. He needed something to distract himself with.

Maybe, go out to some flash new place, blend in with the crowd of people dancing and drinking. It seemed like a better idea, at least at the time. In the morning he could sober up, or take a cab to his home. And hopefully, stop being so pathetic about three unanswered letters.


	6. Prodigal Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An insight into why Aziraphale had been silent for an entire month

Aziraphale opened a window a little bit and breathed in some fresh air. It was so lovely finally having a break from constantly moving around and hurrying all the time. After a month of visiting villages in the mountain areas, staying in small hotels without the Internet or the telephone, the thing Aziraphale wanted the most was to finally do downstairs to the lobby and pay for the computer, and at last, at last read Crowley’s letter and reply to him.

He was waiting, though. Gabriel was going to leave the hotel around 6 P.M., which was 9 A.M. in London, and that meant that Aziraphale was going to be alone for a while and could use the phone downstairs to call Crowley.

He had good news to tell the demon, after all. Another angel who spoke Japanese arrived to their aid, and Aziraphale was allowed to go back to England rather early, in December. He was thrilled to tell Crowley he was coming sooner than expected and hoped that the demon would share his enthusiasm.

Aziraphale had a lot of mixed feelings about his trip to Japan. For one thing, the country was insanely beautiful, and he indeed hadn’t been there since the beginning of the century and was extremely happy to see that the Japanese overcame all the destruction that World War Two had brought there. He enjoyed the big cities and the small towns alike, loved spending time in fairy-tale forests and on the banks of the purest and the fiercest mountain rivers, loved talking to the people around him, be it old men or little children. During his long walks in nature, he met so many different animals and birds, none of which were frightened of him, of course, because they sensed his angelic nature, and he felt more at peace than he had ever done in London.

There was a problem, though. And the problem’s name was Gabriel.

The whole travel across Asian countries had been Gabriel’s idea all along. As far as Aziraphale was concerned, the demand came from the Above, from Metatron himself. Whether it was true or not, Gabriel overdid himself in his pedantic behavior and took his hyper-focus to the details to the whole new level. First of all, Aziraphale could rarely even walk on his own, without being instructed and accompanied by Gabriel all the way down. He was not allowed to go to the restaurants or to enjoy himself too much, to buy souvenirs or even take pictures of the places they were seeing. Every minute they sent together had to be about work – blessings, thwarting of demonic deeds, helping local churches and temples, preaching, preparations for the end of the millennium.

Aziraphale could only find himself at peace when they stayed in little villages in the mountain area and had less work to do. He enjoyed finally being on his own, breathing in the fresh air, talking to nature and listening to God’s voice in return.

But yet another thing that was bothering him was the inability to speak with Crowley. There wasn’t a single day, a single night or even a single minute when something failed to remind him of the demon. Aziraphale was finally happy without a hint of sadness, now that he knew that Crowley was waiting for him in London and missed the angel just as much as Aziraphale missed the demon. He cherished the memories of the last time they met, the way they laughed at the flea market, the way they held hands, and then… When Aziraphale closed his eyes he felt a terrifying but delightful fire inside his soul, when he remembered the fiery touches and feverish whispers they shared in the darkness of an abandoned park. He tried to chase away those dreams, but they came back, and he felt the unmatched pangs of longing and neediness inside his chest. One time he tried to go to sleep, but those images in his head, fueled by desire and limerence, lead him to restless tossing and turning, and he found that it would be better to stake awake all the time and read a nice book instead.

Aziraphale heard Gabriel’s door opening and closing. It meant that he was finally leaving the hotel, and Aziraphale could…

He heard the knock on the door. He opened it, hesitantly, and saw Gabriel, all dressed up.

“Hello, Aziraphale. How are you doing?”, he asked with a usual broad smile. Aziraphale grew sick of it in the last month.

“Very well”, Aziraphale replied politely, with a small smile. “Any plans for today?”

“As a matter of fact, yes”, Gabriel said, and Aziraphale cursed him inside his head. It was supposed to be a day off! “I need to attend some business and I’ll be back in about twenty minutes, and we will need to go and meet our colleague who will be working in your stead after you travel back home”

“That is amazing!”, Aziraphale exclaimed with theatrical happiness in his voice. He feared that his disappointment would be a little bit too obvious if he didn’t try hard enough to hide it. “I will get ready in no time!”

“Good”, Gabriel nodded. “I need you to be presentable tonight”. He threw a glance at Aziraphale’s stomach. “Look, you already lost some weight! I knew you could do it. Great job!”. He smiled with one of his most irritating smiled and moved in down the corridor.

Aziraphale closed the door and sighed in desperation. Great. That was all he needed – another evening in Gabriel’s company.

Still, he had about fifteen minutes to check his e-mail and give Crowley a quick call. Figuring that Gabriel had already left, Aziraphale and headed to the lobby.


	7. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley wakes up with a horrible headache to hear some great news.

Demons weren’t usually suffering from a hangover. Usually. That depended on what they were consuming and the order in which the beverages and other substances were being consumed.

The particular demon, Anthony J Crowley was currently lying on his leather sofa, head down and legs up on the back of the sofa. He was having a particularly exciting dream about Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson solving the murder of Juliette Capuletti by the Nazi agents when he was brought back to reality by the disgusting ringing sound of his telephone. Crowley groaned in suffering and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was his own body, fully dressed: autumn coat, boots… trousers? Well, that was good, at least. It would’ve been worse if they were not there.

Crowley made a strange movement, something in between crawling and stretching, and grabbed his phone.

"Hello", Aziraphale’s voice said.

"Angel?"

Crowley woke up and sobered momentarily.

"Yes, it's me", Aziraphale went on.

"Oh, I... I've just...", Crowley started to mutter, trying desperately not to sound hungover and dying from a headache.

"I can tell”, Aziraphale noted. Oh, that witty blessed angel. He figured everything out in mere moments, Crowley thought miserably. “Listen, Crowley, I've just reached the place with a computer and a telephone and I read your letters. Your last letter..."

Oh, no. No, no, no. A flash of memory emerged from the depth of his sickened brain. He came home and turned his computer on, and…

"Ugh, I've written something...”, Crowley started. “Listen, I sorry, I was partying a-a bit and got a bit too many..."

"Crowley", Aziraphale interrupted him.

"Yeah?", Crowley asked in a panic. Is this the end of it?

"Don't apologize", Aziraphale insisted.

"Okay"

"Listen. I've got about two minutes, but I think I'm safe now"

"Uh-huh, fine. Speak"

"Crowley, I miss you too. I miss you so much”, Aziraphale’s voice seemed a little bit sad. “I think about you every day. About that last time we met. And I have the picture with me"

"Uh... Thanks"

That was about all Crowley could manage to say at that point.

"You don't have to suffer from a hangover, you know?”, Aziraphale pointed out, going back to his usual intonation. “Just saying"

"I know... It's not that bad", Crowley lied. It was not bad, it was horrid.

"I have to go. Listen, I’m going back sooner than expected. Probably next month”, Aziraphale said, and Crowley could hear the smile in his voice. “I'll write a letter, alright?"

It took Crowley a couple of seconds to realize what Aziraphale had just said. Could it be true? He would be home so soon…

"Yeah, sure", Crowley said, trying to raise his head. That was a bad idea – the instant pain followed this reckless movement. “It’s great”

“I’ll write you a letter”, Aziraphale said more quietly and hastily. It seemed like he was about to be interrupted. “I’ll come back soon. Bye, Crowley”

Crowley didn’t say anything before the beeping came, and let out a relieved sigh. The entire thing was stupid, but it turned out rather well. But before he tried standing up again to start preparing for the angel’s arrival, he gathered all his demonic power at current disposal to cast away the plague of a murderous hangover from his body.


	8. One Day We Will Be Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale finally comes back home, but he and Crowley aren't free to be together without hiding.

_December 1997_

On the day when Aziraphale came back to London, Crowley was so anxious that he totally forgot about anything else, even the fact that it was raining heavily – well, to be precise, it was a mixture of rain and snow, the most freezing and nasty one. He left his Bentley as close to the bookshop as he could, but he still had to walk for a couple of minutes, and those minutes were enough to make his clothes dripping with cold water and his impeccable hairstyle turn to stands of wet red locks sticking to his forehead.

Crowley entered a bookshop, his feet wet, his trouser legs soaking. The warmth of the place made his glasses blurry, so he put them away immediately. He breathed in the scent of the bookshop, so familiar and dear – fresh tea, old paper, wood… Then he saw Aziraphale, standing at the bookshelf with his back turned to Crowley - striped light-grey shirt, no bowtie, soft lines of his shoulders and shoulder blades, and a cloud of curly white hair way longer since he last remembered it.

“Hey”, Crowley said softly. “Angel. I’m here”

Aziraphale turned over to see him, and Crowley could see for a moment how his expression changed, from absent-minded to delighted.

“Crowley!”

Aziraphale stormed to him, but Crowley stood by the doorstep stupidly, unable to move.

“You must be cold!”, Aziraphale said worryingly. “You should…”

“Hey, it’s alright”, Crowley smiled and snapped his fingers. All the wetness vanished from his clothes. “It doesn’t matter”

He knew it would be a polite thing to do to take off his coat, but as soon as Aziraphale stood close to him, he had only one thing in mind. He pulled the angel into an embrace, and held him tightly, burying his nose in the blonde curls, breathing in the smell of shampoo, soap, and Aziraphale’s own scent, the scent of his skin. He took the angel’s head in his hands and planted a soft kiss on his cheekbone, and then, as Aziraphale closed his eyes in pleasure, he kissed each eyelid.

“You’re home”, Crowley whispered. “At last”

“You’re cold, Crowley”, Aziraphale said with a smile, as he opened his dreamy eyes. “You need to take off your coat and come inside. I’ll make you tea”

Crowley lowered his head to kiss him on the lips, longing for the angel’s warmth, feeling he was indeed freezing cold. Then he thought he might be making Aziraphale uncomfortable with his frozen lips and hands, and pulled away with a smile.

“Yeah, the tea would be great”, he said and took off his coat at last.

The warm air was finally seeping in under his clothes and he realized how cold he truly was, as he started shivering. Now he really craved some hot tea.

“Would you like black or green?”, Aziraphale shouted from the kitchen in the back room of a shop. “I have to say, I acquired a taste for green tea back there, and… Well, you know…”

“Green is fine”, he said softly and moved to the backroom

Crowley looked more closely at the angel. Something was being amiss. His shirt looked a bit too baggy on him.

"Is this shirt pre-Japan?", he asked suspiciously.

" Ehm, yes, why do you ask?", Aziraphale answered with a careful look.

"You've lost weight", Crowley said, frowning. " Why is that? You've always remained the same size except for the Blitz times and times of famine, but there's no famine in Japan. Are you okay?"

"I am", Aziraphale smiled nervously. " You know, Japanese food is rather low on carbs. That's why they are a rather slim nation"

Crowley found it unconvincing but didn't want to push further.

"If that's really the case, my apologies", he said. “None of my business, really”

"Don't you find it better?", Aziraphale said all of a sudden with a rather anxious look. "Now that I'm thinner?"

"No", Crowley said and immediately thought that was not the right thing to say. "I mean, you're not, by all means, worse than you were... But you weren't bad back then when you were... Bigger"

The whole speech sounded better in his head.

"Well, as Gabriel pointed out, angels are supposed to stay fit at all times", Aziraphale murmured under his nose. " I still have to work in that direction"

"Gabriel? He forced you on a diet?", Crowley asked in disbelief.

"He didn't force me!”, Aziraphale argued “It's just, he was often present and when he was, it was inappropriate for me to indulge in carnal pleasures"

"I thought you were enjoying yourself”, Crowley said in disappointment. He had no idea Aziraphale had been under such stress. “Why didn't you tell me about Gabriel being such a wanker?"

"He's not... Whatever you called him”, Aziraphale went on, while putting the tea mugs on the coffee table. “He does have a point. I've been too... Too..."

"Happy?”, Crowley suggested. “Fulfilled?"

"Not that!”, Aziraphale said. “Oh, come on, Crowley, as if you don't already know that being too soft is very..."

"Too soft?!” Crowley couldn’t believe his ears. “What kind of talk is that? You're not " too" soft, you're right amount, a perfect amount of soft!"

"Crowley...", Aziraphale tried to stop him.

“No, let me finish”, Crowley insisted. “This nonsense about you being somehow not good enough, it’s ridiculous. You’re a perfectly good angel and I love…”

Crowley stopped. Aziraphale looked stunned.

“I love that you’re being yourself”, Crowley finished. Aziraphale sat on the sofa close to Crowley.

“Here is your tea”, Aziraphale said quietly, nodding to the coffee table.

“Ugh, thank you”, he answered, pretending to be not bothered by what he had almost said. He took a mug in his hand – it was new, with a rather elegant picture of a snake on it. “Is it my new cup?”

“It’s mine”, Aziraphale snapped back, then look at Crowley, who was visibly shivering, while sipping his tea. “Oh my God, you’re shaking! I will bring you a blanket…”

“No”, Crowley stopped him by the hand, as Aziraphale started to rise from the sofa. “No blanket. Keep me warm. Please”

Crowley saw how Aziraphale’s gaze softened and became slightly defocused, as he said those words, and after a moment, the angel closed his eyes. Crowley knew what he was waiting for.

Everything melted in a milky-smoky haze, as Crowley felt angel’s hot hands on the back of his neck, pulling him closer, tracing unknown patterns on Crowley’s face with his lips. He let out a sigh, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale, and fought the fog in his head the best way he could, trying to place them both on a sofa, him atop of Aziraphale. If either one of them stayed vertically for another second, Crowley could swear he could lose his balance, for his head was spinning like he was drunk.

It was indeed warm, being in the angel’s embrace, he thought while covering Aziraphale pale throat with kisses. He couldn’t get enough of this, feared that if he stopped for a moment, all this will fade away like a dream, like so many dreams for all those centuries.

“It’s real”, he whispered in Aziraphale’s ear, while kissing a delicate spot under his jawline. “It’s not a dream”

“It is”, Aziraphale whispered fervently, while digging his nails in Crowley’s back. “It is a lovely dream, my dear”

Crowley lost track of time. The universe has shrunk to this small spot in the Soho bookshop, and his multi-millennia experience seemed to have vanished from his head completely. If someone asked him what his name was, he might’ve been unable to answer. All he knew was that this radiant and so perfectly indulgent being that he held in his arms was all he cared about, all he wanted to preserve from the dark and freezing winds of mortality and celestial wars.

Aziraphale’s fingers started working on the buttons of his shirt. Of course, Crowley thought, the angel was greedy for the touch. Crowley smirked in delight and started helping him in undoing his shirt, refusing to part his lips from Aziraphale’s even for a moment.

And at that moment, the sweetest and the most captivating moment, he heard the violent knock on the door.

“Aziraphale!”, the voice demanded. “Are you here?”

“It’s Gabriel!”, Aziraphale whispered in panic.

Crowley immediately stood up from the sofa.

“I’ll bring your coat”, Aziraphale whispered. “You need to leave from the back door”

Crowley knew where the back door was for as long as this bookshop was working. It was no problem. Still, the harsh reality hit him too hard. Mere seconds ago he was in the warm embrace of his beloved, worshipping him and letting him take him whole, and now he had to escape from the back door to the snowy storm, like a thief caught by the police.

“Just a moment!”, Aziraphale yelled and hurried to bring Crowley his coat. “Don’t hesitate”, he whispered to Crowley. “You need to go NOW. I’ll call you, we should be safe in the evening. Is that fine?”

Crowley nodded and let Aziraphale go without saying goodbye. He didn’t want him to make Gabriel wait, it was too dangerous.

He put on the coat without even bothering to button up his shirt and sneaked to a snowy and stormy street. The cold wind crept mercilessly on the naked skin, and the horror of grey and the unfriendly world made the last minutes he spent with Aziraphale seem unreal, like a dream that never came true.

Crowley walked down the street, and while he passed the front door of the bookshop, he stopped for a moment. He was just a regular passer-by with wet hair, miserable posture, and dark glasses. It would be a surprise if Gabriel recognized him. He doubted he even knew how he looked since he fell.

He looked through the window and saw Gabriel’s back and Aziraphale looking at him, smiling and nodding nervously. He looked terrified.

Crowley clenched his fists in desperation. He realized he would’ve given up everything he had on this earth – his wealth, the easiness of his life of a supernatural being, his immortality, even, if he could set Aziraphale free. Oh, if he could just walk in, push Gabriel away and tell him to piss off and grab Aziraphale in his arms and never let go. He wanted to see him happy and free, the way he’d always been when there were only two of them. One day, he thought, those bastards would wage a war between Heaven and Hell and force them to fight against each other. Would Aziraphale understand that they were on neither side, but rather on their own, unique side?

Aziraphale must’ve spotted him because he looked him in the eyes. Crowley smiled back at him and waved him goodbye.

One day this will happen, Crowley thought. But not today.


End file.
